


i dont think i want to leave you

by ebee (ebeeetta)



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Foster Family, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Character Death, Character Turned Into a Ghost, Clay | Dream and Toby Smith | Tubbo are Siblings, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Foster Care, Hurt TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Sad, Sleepy Bois Inc Angst, Wilbur Soot and Technoblade and TommyInnit are Siblings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-14 11:08:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29915976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ebeeetta/pseuds/ebee
Summary: Being a foster kid, Tommy learned not to expect much from the people he lived with. His new residence, the Watson household, is gloomy and boring, with a stressed out father named Phil and his emotionless son Techno.So what does Tommy do when an emo teenager shows up in his new bedroom, and he's the only one who can see him?
Relationships: Dream SMP Ensemble & TommyInnit, Technoblade & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot & Technoblade & TommyInnit & Phil Watson
Comments: 27
Kudos: 223





	1. a robot and a father

Single Father, Teenage Son, Temporary. Single Father, Teenage Son, Temporary. Single Father, Teenage Son, Temporary. 

Tommy liked to engrain the details of his soon-to-be foster families in his head, even if he hardly ever had any information. It never hurt to be prepared. That way, he knew what he was up against. For example: Single Father. Key word,  _ single _ . Tommy could only guess the man would be working quite a bit to keep a steady income, even if it was just from an office at home, which meant sneaking food from the kitchen to get a decent meal shouldn’t be too difficult. Of course, there was Teenage Son to take into account; apparently, he was a year or two above Tommy, which could be cause for concern (Tommy did not want to get beaten up), but hopefully only one other kid meant he wouldn’t have to share a room. Maybe he’d get his own. Or the couch. Or a shed. It happens sometimes.

Single Father, Teenage Son, Temporary.

Temporary.

It wasn’t a huge shock. Every home Tommy’s lived in has ended up being temporary, but not usually without some promise of permanence. This one, however, was very clear from the get-go: only a few weeks, maybe a month or two if they really can’t find somewhere else for him. No offense taken; the man tasked with taking him in had supposedly stopped fostering years ago. Tommy’s case worker had only phoned him because they were out of room at all group homes within a five hour radius, and they desperately needed an “emergency placement” for their “problem child.” As true as it was, Tommy didn’t like that phrase. Yes, he was a “problem.” No, he wasn’t a “child.” He’d be fifteen in a week.

Single Father, Teenage Son, Temporary.

The words circled around in his brain like a tornado as his case worker knocked on the tall, wooden door. Tommy was pleasantly surprised by the peaceful environment of the neighborhood. It was a cul-de-sac, which was nice because he’d never lived in a cul-de-sac before, and when he was younger and living in one of his many past group homes (before getting kicked out), he used to read the little chapter books about the kids who all lived in a cul-de-sac together, and he quite liked the idea of a group of friends all living in the same neighborhood and walking to each other’s houses. He didn’t need friends now, but it was a nice thought at the time. 

The house seemed okay, too. Not too big, not too small, which meant he wouldn’t feel too intimidated, but there would likely be enough space so that he could find at least one area to himself. Of course, he knew that the characteristics of the house meant nothing if the family was awful. He’d lost track of how many times a house seemed safe but left him with too many bruises and scars and memories to count.

  
  


Single Father, Teenage-

The door flung open, revealing a moody-looking boy with long, pink hair braided down his back, and stern amber eyes.

Son.

“Dad!” He called in a deep voice, loud enough to make Tommy flinch but also surprisingly monotone. It seemed the pin-straight line etched across his face was a permanent substitute for a smile, or a frown, or any display of emotion.

_ Great _ , Tommy thought.  _ I’m stuck living with a robot. Or a boy version of Lava Girl. Or both. _

“Sorry! Sorry!” Another voice called, sounding more frantic and stressed, but at least depicting a personality. Another wave of surprise passed over Tommy when the owner of the voice came into view, and the man, whom Tommy could only assume was Single Father, looked absolutely nothing like Teenage Son.

Adopted, maybe? Tommy was well-aware that the man had experience with the system, but no one had told him whether or not his “experience” was successful. It’s possible he did adopt, hence why he decided to stop fostering. He did his share of charity work and moved on. Nevertheless, Tommy did not make a concrete assumption. For all he knew, Teenage Son took after his mom.

“You must be Tommy.” The man pushed forward towards him and stuck out his hand, which was clearly intended for Tommy to shake even though Tommy was most definitely  _ not  _ going to do that. Instead, he studied the man’s face, which was painted with worry lines and a kind of lingering sadness, as if something dark sat gnawing at bits of his brain until he’d eventually deteriorate, even though he wanted to act like he was in control of it.

Tommy shuddered. Curse his vivid imagery.

“I’m Phil. Phil Watson,” he continued, giving up on the handshake. Tommy grunted in response. Nice to finally have a name for Single Father, but he wasn’t going to give a stranger the satisfaction of immediately warming up to him. Trust needed to be earned. “This is Technoblade, my son.” Single Father Phil gestured to Robot Lava Girl Boy. “Goes by Techno.”

Tommy scoffed. “ What kind of name is that,” he mumbled under his breath, but the comment didn’t go unheard by Phil.

“Not his biological name, but it’s his name,” Phil responded and opened the door wider for the blonde boy to step inside.Tommy rolled his eyes (somewhat) discreetly. Really, it wasn’t the worst name he’d ever heard, and Teenage Son Techno actually flowed quite well, but that didn’t stop Tommy from thinking it was weird. Maybe he’ll just stick with Robot Lava Girl Boy. No, Robot Lava Girl  _ Bitch _ .

Phil continued talking, but mostly to his social worker, who was messing with papers and files for him to sign and look over so that he could be aware of just how “troubled” and “unmanageable” Tommy was. Tommy tuned it out, per usual, partially because his brain was already doing laps at one hundred miles per hour and also because he had heard the same spiel billions of times before. One thing that did catch his attention though was that, despite being briefed on Tommy’s nightmare of a file, Phil remained relatively calm. He still seemed worn out, but his expressions gave an air of a man who had been a little worse for the wear for a lot longer than the past five minutes although constantly trying to hold it together in a carefree persona. 

As their discussion dwindled down and Phil escorted the social worker back out the door, Tommy could feel a pair of eyes on him, and immediately turned to face this “Techno” character.

“What are you looking at, Lava Girl?” Tommy retorted, crossing his arms and playing up the “I-don’t-care-who-you-are-I-am-a-troubled-orphan” attitude. To his annoyance, the teen showed no sign of shock or anger at the creativity of Tommy’s insult.

He simply stared, serious, and said, “I will drop-kick you,” returning Tommy’s stance but with a degrading “I-don’t-care-that-you’re-troubled-orphan-this-is-my-house” glare.

“Okay,” Phil cleared the silence after closing the door, clapping his hands together. “Let’s get you settled, Tommy. We can show you to Wi-” he coughed “er- the room you’ll be staying in. It’s-”

“Dad.” Techno interrupted, passing Phil a look that clearly meant something to both of them but meant nothing to Tommy. Phil muttered a quick “just a moment” before going over to his son and placing his hands on both of the pink-haired boy’s shoulders as the two murmured a quiet, clearly private, conversation.

Tommy picked at his fingernails, attempting to ignore the pair’s whispers, but still catching soft sentences and phrases passed between them.

“I know it’s not ideal…” Phil faded in and out.

“-but it’s _ his  _ room.” Wow. Techno was really whining. Guess he wasn’t a complete robot.

The conversation continued in snippets: blah, blah, blah, “not fair”; blah, blah, blah, “miss him”; blah, blah, blah “only for a few weeks.” 

Only for a few weeks.

Temporary.

That’s exactly why Tommy didn’t care about whatever personal family issues the Watson’s were having. He only cared about getting through these next few weeks mostly unscathed until he’s carted off to another home with different personal family issues. At least right now it didn’t seem as though either of the Watson’s would be getting physical with him, although he can never be too quick to judge. Techno was a possibility, but after seeing him pouting to his dad like a little kid, Tommy hoped his threats were just empty. After all, one can’t physically drop-kick an almost fifteen year old… right?

Right. 

Tommy flinched at the feeling of a gentle hand on his shoulder, spinning quickly only to make eye-contact with Phil. He must have fallen into a daze for a second.

“Sorry.” Phil retracted his hand, running it through his head of blonde hair. “S’been so long, I just forgot.” Tommy furrowed his eyebrows. Been so long since what? Since he’d played savior to the poor abused foster kid? He didn’t want to be treated like a liability, but he also wasn’t a charity case. Apologies only made him feel more weak. Like, “Oh, sorry I am so much stronger than you and could literally beat you whenever the hell I feel like it because I’m in charge. Anyways, let me show you to your room!”

“Anyways, let me show you to your room!” Phil said with a false excitement and lead the blonde up the stairs.

See?

“ _ The  _ room,” Techno muttered, lagging behind. “Not  _ your  _ room.”

Letting out a sigh of annoyance, Tommy took to inspecting the photos and certificates framed on the wall as he journeyed up the stairs and down a hallway. Most of them looked to be family photos: Phil, looking much younger and way happier and a smiling Techno with considerably shorter, but still pink, hair. He looked to be about ten or eleven, and he leaned into another boy, around the same age if not a little bit older, whose arm was draped around the former. Tommy glanced at the other pictures on the walls, noticing the same boy in nearly all of them. He looked tall for his age with curly brown hair, rounded glasses, and a beanie pulled over his head, There were far more recent pictures of Techno and the boy too, ones that looked like they could’ve been taken last year or even later. 

If Tommy had to guess, this kid was a foster kid who either got taken somewhere else or aged out of the system, but it did seem strange that, if Techno really was adopted out by Phil that he wouldn’t have adopted the other one too. Tommy had to remind himself that he did not actually know Phil, so he couldn’t really say what the man would and wouldn’t have done.

Passing a certificate framed in gold, Tommy paused, reading the name branded on the front.

_ Wilbur Soot: Regional Geography Bee (Junior Division): 1st Place _

“Stop snooping and get a move on,” the familiar monotone voice sounded behind him. Snarling, Tommy continued down the hallway behind Phil, whose hand rested on a closed door handle.

“Sorry about all of the- um… stuff in here.” His forehead creased, only strengthening the constant look of concern settled on his face. “It was… decorated by someone else.” Phil pushed open the door a crack, seemingly avoiding looking inside. “Just… maybe don’t take anything down.”

“And don’t mess with the guitar,” Technoblade added, accompanying his order with a death glare.

Backing away from the door, Phil sighed. “Other than that, make yourself comfortable. I’ll call you for dinner. Oh-” he added, snapping his fingers, “Your case worker has you all signed up to start school tomorrow.”

Tommy groaned.

“Sucks, I know, but they wouldn’t budge. Said you’d missed too much already. Anyways, it’s really close. Techno can drive you tomorrow morning, but if you ever wanna walk home or something, just make sure to let him know so that you don’t keep him waiting.”

  
  


Grumbling out a “thanks,” the teen slipped into the room and shut the door without even so much as a “see you later.” Agitated, he threw his backpack with all of his belongings on the ground, closing his eyes and sinking to the ground so as to shut the whole world away.

Tommy didn’t want to do this anymore. It was exhausting, changing schools every two months, barely living. He couldn’t wait until he was free from this stupid sustem with it’s stupid rules and the stupid-

“Great. They’ve replaced me already.”

Blue eyes flying open, Tommy was met with a familiar lanky figure standing by the bed; the boy from the pictures. 

“Who the fuck are you?” he blurted out, despite sort of already having an idea of who the fuck the tall teenage boy was. What was the name again? William?

To say William’s (or whatever his name was) eyes widened was a gross understatement. It honestly looked like they were going to burst out of his skull along with his geography-filled brain; speaking of which, after taking in the sheer amount of maps that covered the walls, Tommy was no longer surprised by his first place win.

“Close your mouth. You’re gonna catch flies,” Tommy followed up, unamused by the random man that crashed his pity party.

  
  


“You can see me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ayoo so this concept literally came to me today and so i speedran this chapter. i really hope y’all enjoy :))


	2. emo boy with the beanie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phil’s son. Okay. Add that to the list: Single Father, Teenage Son, Temporary, Oh Don’t Forget About The Other Teenage Son No One Bothered To Tell You About.

“You can see me?”

Maybe Tommy was bugging out, but this guy seemed to lack common sense.

“Uh, yeah?” He stood up, stretching his arms out on either side of him. “But honestly, I don’t really want to. No offense, but I’m supposed to sleep in this room, and having a giant man in a beanie breaking and entering doesn’t give off the best vibes.”

The boy shifted awkwardly in response, as if pondering what to say next. Who was Tommy kidding? At this point, it didn’t matter if his temporary home was dangerous or not, this family was weird as hell. 

“I’m Wilbur,” the boy finally spoke, his voice strangely shaky. Why was this boy so... unsettled? As much as he wished he was intimidating, Tommy knew he was looking pretty scraggly and pathetic. Wilbur cleared his through to continue. “Phil’s son. I’m…in my first year at uni right now and decided to come for a surprise visit.” He fiddled with the hem of the oversized yellow sweater consuming his tall frame. “Don’t tell them,” he quickly added in a much more defensive tone than was necessary.

Phil’s son. Okay. Add that to the list: Single Father, Teenage Son, Temporary, Oh Don’t Forget About The Other Teenage Son No One Bothered To Tell You About.

Stepping closer, Tommy sized him up. The pictures didn’t do him justice: he was even taller in person. Pale, too, with prominent dark circles under his eyes, as if he hadn’t slept in weeks. Maybe university just did that to people. His hair was fluffy under his beanie, and his hand kept swooping it out of his eyes in an unconscious movement. He seemed nervous, or shaken, or like he just got slapped across the face and was trying to hold back a mix of emotions, but not in the same way Techno did. Wilbur clearly had a harder time masking his feelings as successfully, what with his mouth twitching repeatedly and his hands still messing with the sweater. He wasn’t permanently sad like Phil either, instead displaying bewilderment and confusion. He did; however, look just as tired and extremely stressed out as Phil, if not more.

“So…” Tommy started, his thumbs finding their way into the front pockets of his only pair of jeans. “Was no one gonna let me know about the mysterious second son? Because I just met Phil and Techno, and they didn’t say a word about you. For all I know, I could be harboring a fugitive in here. And why are you in my room?”

“This is my room!” Wilbur defended, clearly territorial. Tommy jumped back, surprised by the volume of his voice.

“Will you shut the fuck up?” He whispered more urgently than he had planned. “You’ve just got done demanding that I keep your visit a secret, and now you’re going about shouting it to the world? I’m surprised no one’s come up here already!”

And then, Wilbur had the audacity to roll his eyes, quite rudely, Tommy might add. He looked like he could strangle him at any given moment. What was this guy’s problem? He didn’t display any hint of common sense, yet he continued to act like Tommy was the stupid one in the situation. Was there something that he was missing? Because he did not come here so he could be treated like an idiot by a know-it-all student for a month. Not that he wasn’t used to being treated like a nuisance (which he was), but he certainly hadn’t banked on being insulted by someone who wore beanies and sweaters in early September. Actually, being insulted by someone who wore beanies and sweaters in general was less than ideal.

“You look like an emo.”

“Excuse me?”

“Are you an emo?’

“What the hell?” Wilbur breathed, dropping his hands to his side. Okay, now he really looked like he wanted to strangle him. He would probably succeed too; Tommy wasn’t short by any means, but he was certainly shorter than Wilbur and far too scrawny to take him on.

He also wasn’t liking the idea of being murdered by an emo teenager.

“I’m literally wearing yellow,” Wilbur responded, annoyance evident in his voice.

“I’m colorblind.”

“Are you really?”

“No.”

They stared at each other, Wilbur muttering curses under his breath. If Tommy was going to be forced to deal with this know-it-all, he was at least going to have some fun with it. He took to glancing around the room, noticing vinyls adorning one wall, a way better contrast to the overwhelming number of maps pinned up nearly everywhere else, even on the ceiling. There was a flag hanging on the wall too, belonging to a country that Tommy did not recognize. The decorations weren’t really Tommy’s style, and the walls and bedding were both blue. Tommy preferred red himself.

He feigned disgust. “So you’re the one who decorated this shit room.”

Wilbur threw his hands up in exasperation, forcing a giggle out of Tommy. If he was good at one thing, it was annoying the shit out of others.

“You know what?” Wilbur started, shoving his hands into his pockets. His skin was so pale it looked almost translucent. “I’m gonna stay at a- um… friend’s house tonight. Don’t mention this to anyone. And I mean  _ anyone _ . It’s… a  _ really big  _ surprise. So… you have to keep your feral little mouth shut. And don’t touch my guitar.”

“That’s what Techno said,” Tommy mumbled, not expecting Wilbur to hear.

“He did?” Wilbur’s mouth quirked up in a sad sort of smile. He cleared his throat, looking down to shuffle his feet into the carpet. 

“Why don’t you just take it with you?” Tommy suggested, flashing a glance that said “Duh, idiot.”

Wilbur didn’t respond, only giving a longing look to the guitar and letting his gaze linger there for a few seconds. It sat in the corner of the room on a stand, collecting dust. In fact, the dust covering it was layered like snow, as if no one had bothered to pick it up in months and months. Maybe he didn’t actually play the guitar, just kept it for sentimental value, but now that Tommy had noticed, he couldn’t help but realize that the guitar wasn’t the only thing that looked like it had been left untouched for a while. He understood that Wilbur had been at school, but it’s not like he had been gone for that long; he said himself that he was in his first year, after all.

“I can’t,” he whispered, more to himself than to Tommy, and now it was Tommy’s turn to roll his eyes. This kid was being so ambiguously overdramatic that it was starting to nip at his nerves. Phil and Techno weren’t any better either with their hushed whispers and secrets, apparently consisting of a secret son they didn’t even warn him about before moving Tommy into his bedroom.

“Is everyone in this family just depressed all of the time?” He muttered, earning a sharp glare from Wilbur.

“Whatever,” the brunette said, shaking his head slightly. “I’ll be going now. See you tomorrow.”

“Wait! Tomorrow? You-”

“Who are you talking to?”

Tommy pivoted to face the owner of the deep voice: Techno, who was standing with threateningly good posture and his arms stuck straight by his side, having just swung open the door (without permission, he might add). 

“I- uh, Wi- I mean… he-” Techno just stared back, impervious to the younger teen’s stuttering yet avoiding looking further into the bedroom. Somewhat desperate and nervous, Tommy gestured chaotically, turning his head back to where Wilbur was standing in an attempt to explain-

Oh.

He was gone.

But how did he get out? There was a window, but Tommy hadn’t heard it open. It was like the boy had just… disappeared or something.

With a shake of his head, Tommy returned to Technoblade's intimidating stare. Maybe Wilbur was like... a spy. Or maybe he ran drugs as a side hustle and was just really good at getting in and out of locations quickly and quietly. There were plenty of rational reasons for Wilbur’s sudden escape, probably some even more reasonable than him being a drug dealer.

“Whatever.” Techno circled around and began walking back down the hallway. “It’s dinner time,” he called back without turning his head. “Phil wanted me to let you know.” And with that, he descended down the stairs.

Out of all the Watsons, Techno was the weirdest, Tommy had decided. Even weirder than Wilbur the emo drug dealer, which was pretty difficult to beat. He didn’t like Techno’s lack of emotion; it unsettled him, like he could never prepare for how the guy might react (or not react) to something. Plus, Tommy enjoyed being able to read people, but Techno was a closed book, refusing to be read.

Dinner passed much like the first meeting did: Phil still looked stressed and tired but was clearly making a show of positivity by asking questions and making small talk. Tommy answered in mumbles and picked at his food, taking tiny nibbles so as to savor every bite. Phil seemed reasonable enough for now, but Tommy still needed more assurance that he wasn’t secretly a maniac before letting his guard down. At his last seemingly normal home, the fridge was locked up within a week as punishment for cursing and actual meals were few and far between, doing no good for his already low blood pressure. Really, Tommy was supposed to have a snack or something available to him at all times in case it dropped too low, but he needed more fingers to count how many times he’d passed out after being denied food. 

Techno kept the same bored conveyance the entire dinner, lacing his words with a judgmental tone every time he spoke, in total amounting to about four or five times. He wasn’t a talkative person. Tommy still wasn’t even sure he was a person. 

Overall, dinner was… awkward at best. He guessed an awkward dinner was better than sitting in his- Wilbur’s room and starving, so it was deemed a success. 

“Would you boys help with the dishes?” Phil asked after they cleared their plates. Tommy nodded, knowing better than to refuse an order from his superior.

Techno, however, had other ideas.

“No,” he said simply, and made his way up the stairs.

Tommy looked at Phil expectedly, ready for some form of anger to bubble up, but the older man just sighed and got to work, picking up plates and sticking them in the sink.

“Thanks, bud.” Phil smiled, rinsing a dish and handing it to Tommy to dry. “The past year has just been rough on him, and he just wasn’t really mentally prepared to have another person in the house right now. No offense or anything.”

Tommy nodded, and as much as he hated to admit it, he understood. There had been times he’d acted out so badly that he was immediately placed somewhere else. Of course, sometimes removal from homes had been no fault of his. He had the bruises to prove that.

“And I’m sorry if I seem a bit stressed out,” Phil continued.  _ No kidding _ . “It’s been crazy. I know you’ve been through some shit-'' the language took Tommy by surprise- “so I’ll try to go easy on you. I’ve told Techno to do the same, but I can’t very well make promises for that kid.”

“Is he always such a fuckin’ robot?” The words shot out of Tommy’s mouth before he could stop them. As much as he tried to refrain from cursing in new homes, his attempts ended in disaster nearly every single time. His mouth was simply too dirty for his mind to control it, and he could only pray that Phil wasn’t too harsh about the fourteen-year-old cursing. Judging from his earlier use of language, Tommy hoped for the best.

Phil burst out in laughter. Thank goodness. He didn’t seem phased at all.

“He’s always had a hard time expressing emotions, even after I adopted him.” So Techno  _ was  _ a foster kid. “S’been more intense lately. He just misses-” He cut off.  _ Wilbur _ , Tommy wanted to finish, but he refrained. It made sense that Techno’s brother moving out would make him feel lonely or whatever Techno was feeling under his guise, but for crying out loud, it felt a bit overdramatic. If Wilbur leaving hit them so hard, why wouldn’t they just visit him? Hopefully, the surprise visit that Wilbur had planned would relieve some of the tension, and Tommy would finally feel less confused about this family’s issues, and he wouldn’t have to act like he _ didn’t _ just have a full on conversation with the eldest Watson son that he, for some reason, was never told about. 

He didn’t want to dwell on it, but it really was strange that Phil hadn’t even thought to mention Wilbur, especially since Tommy was literally living in his room. 

“Anyway,” Phil's words grabbed back his attention, “I hope he doesn’t come off too rude. He really is a good kid. Cares about his family... more than anything. I’m sure he’ll grow to like you. Maybe the ride to school tomorrow will give you boys some bonding time.”

Groaning, Tommy placed a stack of dry plates in an overhead cabinet. School was going to be hell. Having to introduce himself to a classful of new faces fully aware that he’d be gone within the month was a special form of torture. He was secretly thankful that he was so bad at making friends because getting attached was not a good option for a kid like him.

“It really is a good school.” Tommy’s apprehension must have been noticeable. “But if it helps, Techno isn’t the best at socializing either. Maybe you guys can keep to yourselves together.”

Tommy smiled, surprising himself. Maybe these few weeks wouldn’t totally suck. Maybe he could make the most of it. Maybe he really did get lucky.

  
  


He just hoped his luck wouldn’t run out.

(Spoiler alert: It already has.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey let's pretend i know how the english school system works.
> 
> so guys i am overwhelmed by the support on the first chapter! i'm not much of a writer, so i'm really glad that someone in the world enjoyed it. we are getting around to the real concept of this fic that made me start writing it.
> 
> i'm warning you, it's gonna get sad. it already is if you've figured out what tommy hasn't yet.
> 
> anyways, is everyone ready for tommy to get a clingy best friend?


	3. everyone hates wilbur or something

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> School was going to be hell, and Tommy had several reasons for believing this.

School was going to be hell, and Tommy had several reasons for believing this.

Number one: He was enrolled as a new student just a few weeks into the start of the school year, which meant everyone already knew each other, but it was too soon in the school year for people to have stopped caring already, which meant his fellow classmates were bound to be extra judgmental. Not that he cared too much about what people thought of him, but he wasn’t in the mood to get beaten up every day.

Number two: Tommy was hopelessly awful at the whole “learning” thing. He could never pay attention in class for the life of him, and his brain always seemed to pick up the tiniest distractions that kept him from taking notes or writing down important due dates or completing in-class work on time. Despite all of these things, he couldn’t care enough to try even if he wanted to. It had already been confirmed that Tommy would not be staying with Phil for long, so why did his grades really matter anyway? They didn’t, no matter how many times he was told he needed to work harder and improve his scores. As a foster kid, he was basically doomed to failure no matter how hard he tried.

Number three: Interacting with people was something Tommy had begun to despise over the course of his life. When he was younger, he talked forever to anyone and everyone, but after years of being told that children should be seen and not heard, Tommy decided that keeping to himself was better for everyone. 

So he was starting to get really annoyed with the kid sitting behind him in English class.

“Hey, you! Hello? HEY!” The boy whisper-yelled, pitching crumpled up balls of paper at the back of his head. 

Geez. If this went on for any longer, Tommy might spontaneously combust.

“Are you deaf or something?”

“Will you shut up!” Tommy turned, gripping the back of his chair hard enough to turn his knuckles white. The boy jumped back in his seat, obviously not expectant of the harsh reaction. 

The first thing about him that Tommy noticed was his porcelain skin (although not quite as pale as Wilbur’s) that contrasted with pink cheeks and dark hair. He also looked small, and though it was hard to tell sitting down, Tommy could almost bet that the boy was a whole lot shorter than him. 

The bell rang, cutting off the observation, and Tommy attempted a quick and casual getaway. It was lunchtime, and he had some sulking to do in a bathroom stall.

“Wait!” The boy called, forcing Tommy to a halt. “You’re new.”

“I didn’t notice.”

The boy giggled, and Tommy had to hold back a grin. He wasn’t exactly trying to be funny, but the positive reaction mitigated a bit of the apprehension pulling at his chest. 

“I’m Tubbo. You’re Thomas, right?” He pulled his backpack over his shoulders, holding on to the straps with his hands. Yep, this kid was way shorter than Tommy.

“Tubbo?” Tommy questioned, avoiding correcting the kid on his own name and displaying a quizzical look on his face. No offense, but why did so many people in this town have such strange names? It was honestly hard to tell which was worse: Technoblade or Tubbo. At least Techno wasn’t a biological name… What kind of parent looks at a newborn baby and decides to name it Tubbo?

“It’s not my real name, just a nickname.” Tubbo shrugged, unphased by Tommy’s tone. “Lots of people here go by nicknames. ‘Specially my friends. A person calls you something different once, and it just sticks I guess. Have you got one?”

“One what?”

“A nickname.”

“Oh,” he brushed his hair out of his face, steering clear of eye contact. “Tommy,” he hummed in response. Tubbo seemed nice enough, but Tommy really wasn’t in the mood to make friends, especially with a kid who throws paper balls at his head for fun.

“Come on. It’s lunchtime,” Tubbo said, grabbing Tommy by the wrist and pulling him out of the classroom. 

Gosh. This guy was clingy.

“Um…” Tommy groaned awkwardly, still being violently dragged down the crowded hallway. “I wasn’t really planning on eating in the cafeteria today.” To be fair, he was telling the truth, even if he avoided outright saying that he simply did not want to make friends if he could help it.

“Well, obviously!” It also didn’t help that he was exhausted from a lack of sleep and overstimulated from the new environment, but Tubbo couldn’t seem to take a hint. “We don’t eat in the cafeteria. We eat outside.” He led Tommy through a pair of double doors and gestured towards one of the few picnic tables sat under an expanse of trees. “You can meet all my friends. There’s Ranboo, and my brother Dream, and…”

Tubbo kept on with the (one-sided) conversation, but all Tommy could hear was static as he tuned the voice out. He’d hardly been in this town for two days, and already his plans were going to shit. Sure, Phil was nice, but he and Techno obviously had some issues. Just that morning Tommy had walked down the stairs to hear Techno relentlessly whining about his presence once again, but the moment the two took notice of Tommy, Techno flipped the switch from moody back to emotionless, which, somehow, was even worse. 

And now he had to deal with a clingy short kid nearly yanking his arm off to meet his friends, something that Tommy had resolved not to do long before he met the boy. Friends couldn’t happen. It was enough to have to socialize with people, but Tommy really didn’t want to have to answer questions about where he came from and what he was doing here, and just judging by Tubbo’s personality, Tommy could guess that his friends would be nosy, and even if they weren’t, he was sure that Tubbo was, and he was not ready to deal with that.

“-and this is Tommy.” Zoning back in, Tommy took in his surroundings. Now standing at a picnic table just under a tall tree, he glanced wordlessly at the faces surrounding the area. Most of them looked older, some were still talking, others were shouting greetings… It was quite stressful. Tommy wondered how Tubbo got to be so popular with an older group. Catching his eye was a tall blonde in a bright green hoodie, who stood up and leaned over the table until his face was way too close to Tommy’s. So much for personal space.

“You’re scared.” He stated it as a fact rather than a question, which Tommy honestly thought was quite rude. He was not scared. He was a big man. He lived a rough life. He could handle a group of teenagers. He could. Totally.

“N-no,” he stammered. “No I’m not.” Damn. That was quite possibly the most unconvincing rebuttal he could have given. 

“It’s okay that you are,” the older boy declared with an air of confidence. “Tubbo was scared when we first moved here too. Maybe even worse than you. Granted, he was only like, eleven, but sometimes he still acts like that. Kid can’t even play video games without screaming his head off. Honestly it’s ridiculous, but it is kind of adorable-”

“Dream!” Tubbo protested, earning a couple of laughs from around the table. Leaning closer to Tommy, he voiced, “Sorry about my brother. He’s lying. And he’s a bitch.”

A whisper of a laugh escaped Tommy’s lips before he could stop it. He usually wasn’t one to switch up so quickly, but Tubbo’s personality really was… endearing. His friendliness came through without even trying, and even though he was a bit clingy and forward and abrasive, Tommy actually felt… comfortable? Like he didn’t have to put on a persona.

The rest of the group, however, was a different story.

As everyone went around introducing themselves, Tommy tried to avoid looking straight into their eyes, which proved difficult considering everyone at the table was staring him down. He tried to keep track of their names, too: Dream, of course, with George and Sapnap seated on either side of him, Jack, Fundy, and Niki, a pretty girl with pigtails and a giant yellow sweater- the same as Wilbur’s? Either way, it was swallowing her whole. They all seemed nice enough, but they were older and intimidating. According to Tubbo, they had all become friends after living in the same neighborhood and forming some club, something about creating countries and going to war or some shit that made zero sense to Tommy, but Dream had let some of the younger ones, like Tubbo and Ranboo, some other kid that Tommy had yet to meet, start to hang out with them. 

After properly meeting everyone, Tommy actually started to warm up to the group. He still refused to speak up a lot, but lucky for him, Tubbo could carry a conversation effortlessly, in a way that almost made Tommy jealous. It seemed that he could just keep talking for hours and hours, and the topics were ever changing but with each one equally as interesting as the last. 

“Yeah, Ranboo and I play bedwars a lot. Do you play?” Tubbo’s eyes twinkled, and he kept going without bothering to wait for an answer. “We could teach you, easy. I’d say you can come over after school, but I usually go ‘round to Ranboo’s. Sometimes Dream makes me come with him to Sapnap’s or George’s when Ranboo’s busy. He doesn’t like me being...” He trailed off. “He likes to keep an eye on me. But I’m sure he won’t mind us hanging out. I could come to your house and show you too if you’d like, but Ranboo probably has the best place. His bedroom is huge. Maybe you live close. What’s your street name?”

That’s a bold question, Tommy thought, but answered anyway with raised eyebrows.

“That’s my street,” Niki interjected. “Ranboo’s, too.”

“So you’re in the neighborhood! That’s great!” Tubbo took a bite of his peanut-butter and honey sandwich. Apparently, he was a huge fan of honey. He’d already spoken for nearly five minutes about how much he loved bees. “So you’ll definitely be coming to Ranboo’s with me. Have you got a Minecraft account yet? You’ll have to get one. It’s not too expensive. Even my dad let me get one after a bit of begging. But if you can’t get one yet, that’s okay. You can use mine or Ranboo’s to learn. Speaking of Ranboo, I wonder where he is… He probably had a meeting or something he’s forgotten about. I love the man, but he has a shit memory.”

As if on cue, a low “Hello?” sounded from behind them. The rest of the table continued chattering while Tommy whipped around in reaction.

Holy-

If he thought he’d seen it all, Tommy was mistaken. Tubbo had warned him that Ranboo was tall, but he wasn’t expecting a fucking giant. The brunette yanked Tommy up to make the introduction, and seeing Ranboo standing next to Tubbo, the difference in height was laughable.   
“Ranboo!” Tubbo smiled. “This is Tommy. He’s just moved here.”

“Nice to meet you, Tommy,” Ranboo greeted, holding out his hand for a handshake.

“Shit. You’re taller than Wilbur,” Tommy sputtered without thinking. 

And silence.

It was an immediate response too, like suddenly, all at once, the world stopped turning for everyone there as their heads shot towards him in sync. No one said a word either, instead staring at Tommy wide-eyed as he shifted uncomfortably. Did he say something wrong?

Evidently he had, because to make matters worse, Tubbo’s breathing became rapid, prompting Dream to rush between them.

“Are you stupid?” He sneered, grabbing his brother and forcing him to sit down while Jack passed a water bottle across the table. 

Tommy guessed that he was stupid because he didn’t understand anything that was happening in the moment. It must have been a common theme. Maybe everyone in town got together and said, “Hey, there’s a new kid. Let’s act super weird but only in very specific circumstances to confuse the heck out of him.” Come on. He’d barely known Tubbo an hour and already he was screwing up by making him fucking hyperventilate in the middle of lunch. All because he commented on Ranboo’s height? So, yes, apparently he was stupid.

A hand gravitated towards his forearm, pulling him away from the table where Dream was whispering to Tubbo and tipping water into his mouth. Tommy found himself face to face with Ranboo again, Niki closing in on the side. She was gripping the sleeves of her sweater unnaturally.

Weird weird weird weird weird weird weird weird weird. He barely even knew these people.

“Hey, hey it’s okay.” Tommy must’ve looked panicked because Ranboo put on a calming voice, trying to distract him from the stressful noises now erupting around him. The blonde breathed, relaxing his shoulders and blinking to clear the glaze that had settled over his eyes. “You didn’t know how he’d react. It’s just a really touchy subject.”

“What the fuck are you on about?”

Ranboo inched back, replacing his concerned look with a confused one. Wow. Imagine being confused. Can’t relate.

“Tommy,” Niki interjected. Her voice was sweet, like honey, but her tone was timid. “How do you know... W-Wilbur.” The name struggled to leave her lips, and when it finally did, it hung in the air dryly, as if she hadn’t spoken it in a while.

“I met him?” Tommy answered more like a question. Is that why everyone got so upset? Because he mentioned Wilbur? Maybe he really was a drug dealer. “Is there something wrong?”

Ranboo stared at him. “You met Wilbur,” he said slowly. “As in… Phil Watson’s son? That Wilbur?”

Hesitantly, Tommy nodded. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Tubbo starting to calm down, engaging in a quiet exchange with his brother. Others seemed to be giving them some space, forming their own small groups and pairs. The maelstrom settled upon him, giving him a headache. Or maybe he already had one. At this point, he was too disoriented to care. So many things had just happened so quickly yet so slowly at the same time. Not to mention, Ranboo and Niki were still looking at him like he’d just come back from the dead.

“But you just moved here....” Nikki articulated, her eyes suggesting something that he felt he was meant to understand, but of course, he didn’t. He shouldn’t have been surprised. 

“Yeah, well I-” He wanted to say that he was staying with Phil, to clear up some confusion, but honestly, he wanted to delay that discussion for as long as possible. The “I’m a foster kid” reveal was already awkward enough, and he really didn’t need to add fuel to the fire right now. For Pete’s sake, he didn’t want to make friends in the first place, nevermind causing any drama.

“So how-” Ranboo halted, taking a deep, slow inhale before letting out a puff of air. “You know what? It doesn’t matter.” He craned his neck to look towards the table. “Everything good over there?” He called. Tommy avoided looking, but seeing Ranboo nod led him to believe that things had calmed down a bit.

“Listen,” Ranboo’s voice was low and serious, “I know we literally just met. Heck, I don’t even know where you came from, but I wasn’t around when any of this stuff happened either. I moved here after Wilbur… left.” Niki looked down, suddenly very interested in the laces on her shoes. “But I do know that Tubbo and Dream were hit really hard. The things that Tubbo saw… Just be careful. It’s not easy for him. Or anyone for that matter. And Phil’s other son… I don’t know if you know him, but-” He and Niki shared a glance- “let’s just say he’s not helping. So it’s probably best if you don’t mention Wilbur.”

Tommy scanned both Ranboo’s and Niki’s faces before giving a nod that communicated he understood. He didn’t, but he was smart enough to know when he shouldn’t press for more information. He was clearly missing something. Ranboo brought up Techno, and judging by his tone, the group did not consider Techno a guy that anyone would want to associate with, which sucked, considering Tommy was temporarily living with him. What would happen if they found out about that? He had already fucked up enough; if they knew what he was hiding, they were sure to do more than just call him stupid and chew him out. Moreover, they were bound to find out that Wilbur was in town, too, which couldn’t lead to anything good. What could he have done that was so terrible? Sure, Wilbur was a huge smart-ass, but overall, he didn’t seem like a bad guy. 

That was it. Tommy had too many questions to count. He felt like he was drowning.

But he was right.

School was definitely going to be hell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys! i really really hope y'all liked this chapter. ALL YOUR COMMENTS GIVE ME VALIDATION. CONTINUE TO COMMENT IF YOU SO PLEASE. just a reminder that i write these and post them straightaway, so sorry if there are any mistakes. 
> 
> ANYWAYS
> 
> poor tommy :((( he cannot read the room. still debating on when he's going to figure it all out, but i hate seeing him so confused. i did love introducing new characters though :))). any predictions for the future????


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